


Feathers Falling

by posingasme



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Canon, Angel Castiel, Angel Wings, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Anne of Green Gables references, Castiel & Charlie Bradbury Friendship, Castiel in the Bunker, Delirium, Fever, Hurt Castiel, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Major Character Injury, Men of Letters Bunker, Midsummer Night's Dream, Permanent Injury, Protective Sam Winchester, References to Shakespeare, Season/Series 10, Series Spoilers, Sick Castiel, The Princess Bride References, Titanic References, Wings, angel lore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-26
Updated: 2015-07-09
Packaged: 2018-03-19 17:52:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3618888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/posingasme/pseuds/posingasme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel has been hurt, but he won't reveal how bad it is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Feathers on the Bed

Feathers on the bed.

Sam sighed. "Cas?"

"No."

He licked his lips and drew a hand down his face wearily. "Cas, come on," he said firmly.

"No."

The hunter proceeded to pick up the feathers one by one. "Dude, I know you're upset. It's kind of obvious. Just come out and let me see you."

"No."

He placed the feathers into a cloth bag kept in the bedroom just for this purpose. Angel feathers were extremely rare, valuable spell components, after all. "Castiel, if you don't come out, I'm coming in."

"I'll prevent you."

"All night?"

"I don't sleep."

Sam cleared his throat. "Cas, you can't freak out on me just because you're...embarrassed." He sat on his heels and busied his hands silently.

The voice behind the bathroom door became indignant. "I do not freak out."

"You once carved a 'fuck-off angels' sigil into your own chest as Plan A."

"That was our best tactical option. I'm a soldier."

Sam nodded. "Maybe." Without warning, he threw open the door.

Castiel gave an irritated shriek. "It was locked!" he shouted.

"Yeah. And I pick locks. Don't act surprised. I'm not going to break down my own door if I don't have to. And if you're going to use your angel shit against me, I'm going to use my hunter shit against you. So things would go a lot easier if you'd stop threatening your ability to keep me out of a room in my own home for an entire night, when there's someone I love in there hurting."

Castiel looked positively miserable.

"Go on. Show me."

"There isn't room in here," he said defeatedly, refusing to meet Sam's eye.

The hunter took his angel's hand and pulled him gently out of the room. Castiel's eyes were filled with pain and humiliation, and it broke his heart. "Is there room here?" he coaxed.

"I suppose." With one look into Sam's gaze as if to plead with him not to make him do this, he let his wings materialize in their world. He flinched and let out a small groan of pain, then regained his composure to stand stoically under Sam's sympathetic examination.

"Jesus, Cas. Why didn't you tell me or Dean how bad it was?"

When his hand went up, Castiel grabbed the wrist. "Please. Don't touch it. And I didn't tell you because there isn't anything you can do about it. You would just want to see it, and I didn't want that."

Sam heard the accusatory tone. He twisted his wrist so that he was holding Castiel's hand instead. "Cas, you can't not show me when you're hurt. Okay? You made it sound like a simple cut. Something that would make a human need a few stitches. So it freaked me out when I started seeing feathers everywhere. Dean's ready to call a vet!"

Castiel frowned. "A vet?"

"An animal doctor."

"I am not...why would he do that?"

Sam threw his hands up. "They're the only people we can think of who might know how to treat a hurt wing! With you dropping feathers and hiding so we can't see how hurt you are, what the hell else are we supposed to do?"

"You're supposed to leave me alone!" Castiel roared then.

He shook his head sadly. "Cas, talk to me, okay? It isn't just the pain. I've seen you in pain. This is something else. Are you just embarrassed that the other angel got the jump on you? Or is there some angel thing about having a ripped wing that I don't understand?"

Castiel glared at him in defiance for a time, but his expression eased when it became obvious Sam was willing to wait and stare him down for an answer. "You are a stubborn human," he said wearily.

"Yes I am. And you're a stubborn angel. So let's call it even and talk about this."

With a shuddering sigh, Castiel turned so that Sam could see his wings completely. It was even worse from this angle. Sam cringed. There was one beautiful, barely touched black wing, majestic and strong. The other had been shredded down to the bone. Black feathers hung limp and pitiful, matted together with blood and oil. The wing itself was mangled, hanging out of symmetry with the other. Sam slowly realized that even when the healthy wing shifted slightly, the broken one did not.

As if he could hear the realization in Sam's thoughts, Castiel extended his wings to half their full span...and one did not obey him.

"Oh my god, Cas. Is it...can that be...repaired?"

Castiel turned back to him with a sad sigh. "Probably not," he whispered.

When he had learned Bobby was paralyzed, it had blasted a hole in his chest. Sam could only imagine what this was doing to Castiel. "Cas, I'm so..."

"Sam, please don't. If I could have found a way, I never would have let you know. Please, let's just pretend you don't."

"Cas! You can't hide something like this from me! Dean too! We love you, man! You're family!"

The pain in Castiel's blue eyes was indescribable. It hit Sam's heart with a force that nearly knocked him over. "Sam, if we are family, then you will leave me some dignity. If you love me, you won't pity me."

Sam took a jagged breath, but could not respond.

Castiel nodded. "I have been a soldier of Heaven and a guardian of humans. I will not mourn an injury taken in honorable battle by a worthy opponent, while defending innocent lives. If my wing never repairs, it is my privilege to have lost it doing what an angel of my rank is meant to do."

Sam's heart filled to bursting with the words. Tears burned against his eyes.

He was silent for a moment. Then he licked his lips slowly. "Sam, I am about to get very sick."

"Like when your Grace was fading?" he whispered.

"Yes. Possibly worse. But I will recover. And there isn't anything you can do to help me, so you may as well go about your business with Dean. Until my Grace, my wings, my mind and this vessel relearn how to work in cooperation, I will be quite useless."

Sam frowned severely at the idea that Castiel was apologizing for being useless while dealing with a life changing injury. "Cas-"

"I would ask a favor. For currency, since I think spending a week or two in a motel, until I recover as well as I can, would be my best option. If you have it to spare, I would be grateful."

His eyes were wide, and he fought against the tears Castiel did not want. "Cas, we're not letting you go hole up in a motel when you're sick and injured. For Christ's sake, Castiel, you still have blood on you! Look, we'll give you privacy if that's what you want, but you're staying in the bunker for this. If you're really going to be sick like you were before, you need to be where we can help you, where you'll be comfortable and safe! If nothing else, that angel creep is still out there somewhere! I'm not letting you lie sick in a motel bed unprotected with someone out there nursing a grudge!"

"That's what warding is for."

He threw his hands in the air. "Oh, that's going to help! You can lie there sick and in pain, with your Grace burning your insides because you're sitting in a room warded against your own species!"

Castiel's eyes flashed in fury, and his wings disappeared from Sam's sight. "And what am I supposed to do? I will not be able to ascend to Heaven like this, and I will not call Hannah or the others down when there is a rogue waiting to attack any angel who gets near enough, especially friends of mine!"

"You ascended before!"

"That was before!" he shouted. "That was when I was whole! Perhaps I was not a full angel, perhaps I was not a full human, but I was whole! To enter the remaining gate with only one wing, not an angel nor a human, just a mutilated thing, I won't do it! Father help me, Sam, I've been as humiliated before my family as I can stand to be! And I will not remain here for you and Dean to pity! If you will not help me with currency, I will find my own."

Sam listened to everything, but his anger sparked on one part of Castiel's speech. He stood tall and glowered down at the angel. "Don't you dare,"he snapped, eliciting a shock from his angel. "I am sorry for what happened, but don't you think for a moment that what I feel for you is pity. We've been through too much for that."

"Sam-"

"No, shut up. You are Castiel. Castiel! You, me and Dean? Together, we kicked the asses of four archangels and one poser god." He smiled then. "Two poser gods, if we count you."

Castiel glowered at him.

"And if you think I don't consider you the strongest creature we've ever come across in all the years we've been doing this, you haven't been paying attention. It isn't pity. It's love, plain and simple. It's rare that neither Dean or me is screwed up, so take advantage of the small window while it's open. If we are both ever in our right minds, we wouldn't let you out in the cold while you're hurting and hunted. We've done that to you too many times. Let us make that up to you now."

Suddenly, it was Castiel blinking back the tears. Sam was nearly certain he had never seen that before. "Sam, you have nothing to make up for. I never want to be a burden. Not on you. Not anyone. I've taken care of myself for longer than humans were upright. I can do so now."

"You don't have to. And it's different now, and you know it. Jimmy was the first vessel you took, wasn't it?"

"Essentially."

"Cas, you've got eons of experience as an angel, but it's only been part of a decade since you've been walking and talking with us. It's different. In a few short years, you've become something entirely new. If anybody understands what that's like, it's the boy with the demon blood, and the hunter with the black eyes. In every way that matters? The three of us are our own species. Each one of a kind, especially now that Cain is dead. If you don't think that bonds us to one another, you're just wrong." He took Castiel's hand again. "You're family. You know by now what that means, at least to us."

Castiel closed his eyes.

"Cas? In our family, there's no pity. There's no humiliation. There's handling what's in front of us, what life throws at us. Because the hits just keep on coming. If I thought this was going to be the last time one of us was totally screwed over, I'd learn to dance. But it won't be. So let's get you healthy before the next thing hits."

The angel nodded slowly. "You're right. I apologize. The tactical thing to do is stay at the bunker and recuperate as efficiently as possible."

Sam smiled. "I'm glad you see it that way." He looked down at the bag of feathers he had been collecting for two days. "We can practically outfit an entire angel with what you're shredding, man."

Castiel sighed. "Traitorous things," he snapped.

"Why? Because they're the only part of you willing to let me and Dean see that you're hurt? I'm grateful for them. Besides, they're worth a fortune in the hunter black market." He winked. "Willing to part with them?"

"They grow back, Sam. I lose feathers regularly. It's just that you cannot see them."

"Okay. So here's what I propose. We all need some rest. I'm going to take these to Dean and get him to work auctioning them to the highest bidder, or donating them to the greatest cause. They're spell components nobody can ever get hold of that are critical for a thousand different spells. Then I'll send him for supplies. He can stock the bunker with everything the three of us need to relax and lick our wounds for the next two weeks. We'll invite Charlie to bring the next season of Game of Thrones. We'll live like normal people for a few days. And you can join us for movies or lock yourself in the bathroom or whatever you want. Sound fair?"

He received a grateful smile. "Normal people. Do you have any idea what that is like?"

"Not a clue. But we'll give it a try."

"Thank you, Sam."

"Of course."


	2. Lysander and Hermia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel is alternating between unreasonably angry and deliriously giddy, and resting is not going well. Sam tries a new tactic to comfort him. Feverish Castiel doesn't make as much sense as he thinks he does.

Sam had seen Castiel in a lot of very bad states. He had seen him bloody more often than not. And he had seen him sick, wasting away on borrowed grace. He had seen him delusional, demoralized and desperate.

This was something new. This was just plain suffering.

The angel had explained once that he did certain things simply to maintain his vessel. Jimmy's body had craved red meat during their time at Famine's mercy, for example, though he himself did not require it. He was in the habit of breathing because it was the easiest way to give the vessel what it needed. Castiel did not need to take a breath, but the vessel benefitted from it. Like food, it only truly required these gulps of air when under extreme stress.

Castiel's vessel was under extreme stress.

Sam tried not to watch him. He knew it was a blow to his angel's dignity to be seen struggling in this way. He couldn't help it. "Cas," he whimpered finally, "tell me how I can help you."

Blue pools of exhaustion slid to meet his gaze. "Sam, I told you," he wheezed. "Nothing. It's why I wanted to leave. There's nothing you can do."

"I can't stand it, Cas." Listening to Castiel try to suck in a breath was making it hard for him to do so as well. It was beginning to hurt. "Cas, you gotta let me help you somehow. Maybe...They give humans steroids sometimes to help them breathe. Maybe..."

Castiel shook his head. It was a small motion, just enough to answer in the negative.

The hunter sighed. "I thought not." He chewed on his lower lip.

"Sam, please. I'm too weak now to go myself as I should have done before. You should go. Find a hunt. Something. Don't sit to watch me. Please."

He shook his head. "Can I distract you somehow?"

The angel tried to huff out a laugh, but did not have enough breath to do so. Sam cringed at the sound. "You could dance."

A frown crossed his face. It was such an out of character thing for Castiel to say. "What?"

"I suspect that would be distracting." There was something of a giggle coming from his lips now, stealing breath he did not have and causing him to cough.

The door opened only enough for Dean's head to fit through. "Hey, Sammy. How's he doing?"

Castiel's eyes flashed with a rage so sudden that Sam stumbled out of the chair by the bed. " _He?_ " the angel snapped without warning. "How is _he_ doing? Because _he_ certainly could not speak for himself on his _own_ behalf!"

Dean's eyes went wide, and he took on what Sam recognized as a defensive stance. "I'm sorry, Cas, I..."

Sam shook his head. "Out," he hissed, and he followed Dean into the hall. "Be right back, Cas."

He was met with a snicker of amusement.

"What the hell was that?" his brother demanded as the door closed behind them.

"Shh! He's getting weird. The past hour or so, he's been..."

"Bitchy?"

"Emotional. And a bit giddy."

"That didn't look like giddy to me! You see his eyes? Thought the son of a bitch was going to smite me!"

"Yeah, and a half hour ago, he might have. Ten minutes after that, he sounded like he was trying to compose a sonnet in Enochian curse words. And when it's Enochian, they really are curse words!"

"What, like...a celestial fever? Awesome. We got a delirious nuclear warhead in the bunker."

Sam threw his hands up. "What did you want me to do, Dean? At least if he goes off here, no civilians are in it!"

His brother's smile surprised him. "Sammy, you don't have to pretend like you're looking out for the civs. You wanted him where you could take care of him. Nothing wrong with that, man. I want him here too. I'd just like to defuse him a bit, that's all."

He shrugged wearily. "How do we do that?"

"Oh, I have no idea. That's your department. You know. Helping angels take the edge off."

He considered punching his brother, but it hardly seemed worth it, especially if Castiel was probably going to smite him sooner or later anyway.

"Let me know how it goes. I'm picking up Charlie at the train station. Good luck. Try not to get smote."

"Bite me."

Dean gave him a smile and smacked him on the arm before heading for the exit.

Sam sighed and stepped back into the room with Castiel.

The angel was far too still. A sense of dread came over Sam until he realized his angel was asleep. He heaved another sigh, and slipped out of his clothes down to his boxer briefs and tee, and slipped in beside him.

Castiel still was not breathing right. But at least he was resting.

That in itself was disturbing. Castiel did not sleep.

***

It was a clear pattern, and Sam was not sure what to think about it. Whenever Dean was mentioned there was aggression. Sam himself brought on laughter. Sam had decided long before Dean got back with Charlie that there was no way he was letting either of them near Castiel, for their safety.

The angel, most of the time, suffered wordlessly. The shallow wheezing gave way to tiny whimpers Castiel himself did not even seem to hear. They had gotten about an hour of sleep before the nightmares had begun. Terrified of what might happen if Castiel continued to lash out in his sleep, Sam had shaken him awake. The blue eyes were full of horror and anguish, and Castiel's whole vessel was shaking. Sam's voice calmed him after an eternity of fear.

And that was how he ended up reading to his angel.

"I know the way this ends, Sam," Castiel sighed after a few minutes of listening.

"Of course you do. Metatron installed the Cliff's Notes. But that doesn't mean you understand what really happens. Or why."

Castiel smiled weakly. "It's true. I will not claim to understand why Lysander insists upon Hermia when his love is clearly unrequited."

Sam frowned. "What? No, Hermia loves Lysander. That's the only constant in the whole play."

"If she truly loved him, why would she put his life in danger by running away with him? Hermia is selfish."

" _Hermia_ is selfish? That's your take away from this? Now I know you're delirious."

Castiel's eyes softened as he looked up into Sam's eyes. "Love is sacrifice, Sam. Lysander would take Hermia from Demetrius, because she would be unhappy with him. Hermia would allow herself to be taken even though it puts Lysander at great risk. She is selfish."

The hunter shook his head, but wondered if perhaps Castiel was reading from his own experiences. "I don't think that's what Shakespeare had in mind."

The angel huffed. "He also wrote on Romeo and Juliet. Will you tell me they weren't selfish?"

"They were kids."

"Exactly."

He laughed quietly. "Cas? Do you want me to choose another story?"

"No. I like the hobgoblin. Goodfellow."

"Puck? He's a-"

"Hobgoblin."

The way Castiel stared unyieldingly into his face made Sam wonder if maybe he was the one who didn't know his Shakespeare as well as he thought. "Okay. You know, it's meant to be a comedy. Try not to take it too seriously."

"Sam? Before you begin again, could you help me with the water?"

It was the first time Castiel had actually asked for anything. Sam smiled at him. "Of course." He braced the angel's neck, and brought the bottle to his lips. His heart tugged in his chest as he realized just how weak Castiel was becoming.

The angel had promised this would pass, that he was not going to lose him. But Sam had lost so many over the years, had given up so much. He could not help the fear that was curling tighter around his throat each time he looked at his angel.

At least the giddiness had passed. As an experiment, he quietly mentioned that Dean was on his way back to the bunker.

Castiel gave a tight smile and waved a finger to indicate he was finished with the water. "Dean is a perfect example."

At first, Sam was simply glad Castiel was not flaring with anger at the sound of his brother's name. Then he frowned. "Example of what? Selfishness?"

The blue eyes stared at him. "Of course not. Sam, do you think your brother is selfish?"

"I think he's probably the least selfish man on the planet!"

Castiel smiled then. "Perhaps, with just one exception." Then he shook his head, which seemed to make him a bit dizzy. "No, Sam. Sacrifice. Your brother personifies sacrifice. It is his example that makes me unable to forgive Hermia her willingness to risk Lysander, and therefore call his love unrequited. He would sacrifice himself for her. She would let him. Dean would never allow someone he truly loves to put themselves in danger simply for his sake. You have, countless times, but he would never choose that for you. He wants you by his side in battle against evil, not for his own sake but because he knows he is stronger with you, and it is where he can best look after you. The fact that you also look after him is a benefit, but not a goal of his."

To his surprise, Sam felt tears burning at his eyes. He blamed the lack of sleep and the emotional exhaustion of caring for a broken angel. "That's...that's just how we are," he said, because he could think of nothing else to say.

There was a slight movement as Castiel shrugged. "Is it any wonder, then, that all stories of supposed love are ruined for me? My whole life, my only love has been for my Father and his Host. It was total. It was everything. In some ways, it always will be. But I've been among humans..." He paused to catch his breath, but pushed through to continue. "And I have always loved humanity, more than I was ever meant to. It's been my undoing time and again. And in the last few years, I've come to love individual humans. You, your brother. Claire. You."

Sam chuckled softly, and took his angel's hand. "You already said me."

"You," he whispered again. Then he cleared his throat. "But I had no point of reference for what love is meant to be until I observed your brother."

"I'm a little worried that you think being a horndog and a womanizer is true love."

"Your brother is not a womanizer. And I'm not even sure what sort of dog that is."

Again, Sam laughed, and he reached out to smooth Castiel's dark hair from his sweaty skin. "You sure I'm the Winchester you're in love with, Angel?"

Finally, Castiel's glassy eyes sharpened into focus. "There is no need to be insulting. Of course I'm sure. I simply mean that observing Dean has better enabled me to love you the way you deserve. Humans have short memories, but I suspect you recall Lisa and Ben."

A sad ache filled Sam without warning. "Yeah. We don't talk about it."

"Because they don't remember him. Because he had me replace their memories of him."

Sam took note of the wording, and he watched Castiel's eyes curiously. He helped the angel drink another sip of water, and saw a touch of relief in his gray face, then he spoke again. "You said he had you replace their memories. I thought you just wiped out him."

The look Castiel gave him made him think the angel might be doubting Sam's intelligence. "Sam, had I done that, they would have huge chunks of their lives missing without explanation."

It had never occurred to him. Since Dean had not allowed talk of the Braeden family, Sam realized he had put them out of his surface thoughts altogether. They were just another thing Dean had given up along the way. Like Amelia, for him. "So what did you fill that space with?"

"Another Dean. One they could not quite remember clearly enough to miss him, but who would explain the presence in their lives for over a year. One they felt fondly about but could not have said why. And one that had no connection to the supernatural world."

His eyes widened. "What? Cas-"

"Sam, there were others who had met Dean, who had talked with Lisa and Ben about him. They had photographs of him. He had clothing and possessions at their home. I couldn't take the time to erase him completely from every aspect of their lives. I was, after all, in the middle of a war."

"And about to break my head, if I remember correctly."

He wished he hadn't said it as soon as the words were out of his mouth. Castiel flinched in a way that seemed to punch the last of his strength out of him. "I'm so sorry, Sam," he wheezed.

"No, no, shh. I'm sorry too. I shouldn't have brought it up. We're past that, Cas. Way past it."

Castiel shook his head, but then lay still against the pillow. "I will never be past it, Sam."

"Well, I am. You didn't throw me into the pit with your big brothers, Cas. I did that. You were the one who pulled me out. All you did was jog my memory."

"In a way that nearly killed you."

"And then you took it on yourself, so I think we're even. And if we had listened to you earlier, maybe we could have found a way to take down Raphael without all the Purgatory crap. Cas, you were living a decent life, with a wife and a house, and a side job as a faith healer, until Dean yanked you back into the fray, to put Lucifer into your head instead of mine. You've atoned. Believe me, you've atoned."

"I do love you, Sam. When I took on your pain in that facility...No one could do that, see what you saw and feel what you felt, without falling in love with you. I'm grateful I was the one who could do it for you." He weakly grasped the hunter's hand. "I cared for you before, but I never truly understood what Sam Winchester is until that moment. He's beautiful. At that moment, I finally understood why Dean was so angry about the demon blood and Ruby, why he was so determined to push your soul back into you even at the risk of killing you."

Sam shook his head. Those were the most horrible failures of his life. How could Castiel see beauty in those things?

"Dean knew, instinctively, what I suspected but did not truly understand myself. Your soul, Sam, your essence, is good. It shouldn't be. Everything Heaven and Hell have done to you, you should be corrupt, torn and reshaped into a monster. And you're good. It's why Dean goes blind with fury every time something tries to taint you. You are everything pure in his life. He cannot express it, except to say he has to keep you safe, but he knows. It's the only thing he knows sometimes. As a demon, it was what he wanted most to destroy, because it was the last thing holding him back. Your purity, and his desperate, primal need to protect you."

It was painful to listen to Castiel's broken voice, especially when his words were such nonsense. Sam was not pure. Sam was anything but pure. He was stained with demon blood, for god's sake. "Cas, please. Rest. Do you want me to read?"

The angel frowned at him with clear frustration. "Sam, you will never hear things like that, will you?" He sighed sadly. "Well, I'll love you for that too, then." He reached weakly to touch Sam's face. "What strange things these mortals be. Yes, Sam, please read. I want to see Hermia as you do, not relative to what I know real love truly should be."


	3. Anne and Gilbert

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel is up and moving, but he's still not making as much sense as he thinks he is.

When Dean and Charlie stepped into the warded bunker, Dean felt the familiar ache of home. At one time, that ache had been a stab of pain throughout his whole body, which culminated behind his black eyes. The wards had hurt like a bitch, but it had almost been a good hurt. It was the hurt that confirmed he was well and truly a monster this time. His skin had burned under the surface, his scalp had crawled with an itch he knew could not be soothed. At first, he had refused to give Sam the satisfaction of knowing how much the wards seared into him, and later, he had not wanted to burden Sam with the knowledge that they had. In his right mind, Dean knew Sam would never take satisfaction from his pain.

Now, there was the slightest alien tickle at his forearm which caused him to scratch at it absently as he entered the wards, but it faded as he ignored it. Now it was simply a reminder that he still had a job to do, to keep the black eyes from his nightmares away for good. The bunker was home again, and he was safe there, from everything that was not himself.

"Sammy?" he hissed cautiously. "Found a derelict at the train station. She promised pizza and _Game of Thrones_." He gestured to Charlie to stay at the door while he checked everything out. "Scary delirious angel, where are you?" he sang.

Then he turned to look down the staircase, and found Sam passed out with his head on the table. Dean stepped lightly down the stairs and was about to put his hand on Sam's shoulder when one closed around his arm from behind. "Mother of-Holy crap, Cas!"

Castiel took note of the angel blade in Dean's hand. "Good choice," he sighed. "But I'm neither delirious nor scary at the moment. Let Sam sleep a bit longer. Please. He read to me for hours, then came out to find another book, and he fell asleep before he had chosen one." Castiel pointed at the stacks of books around Sam's head. He whispered again. "He was trying to find a book which I would not consider a poor representation of true love."

Dean was motioning up at Charlie that she could come down, but now he turned to the angel. "What?"

"He read from Shakespeare, Byron and Austen, and each time, I pointed out the flaws in the characters' idea of love. He called it romance, but I was not impressed. I believe it frustrated him." He glanced back at Sam. "And apparently exhausted him."

Charlie giggled quietly. "Poor Sam. Touched by an angel who doesn't get romance. That smarts."

Sam shifted at their voices but did not awaken. Dean smiled at him fondly. “He’s been awake for like three days, Cas. Worried about you. It’s no wonder the guy’s unconscious. I’m going to move him to a bed.”

“Need help?”

He snorted. “From the ninety pound girl? No. I think I’ll be all right.” He received a punch in his arm and laughed. “I mean, from the Queen of Moons? No, I wouldn’t presume.”

Charlie allowed this to slide with a grin.

Dean waved Castiel to the side of the room out of sight, then ducked under one of Sam’s arms to lift him. _Jesus_ , his brother was heavy.

“Dean?”

“Come on, baby brother. You’re drooling on the ancient artifacts again.”

“Dean?” Sam muttered again. “Where’s Cas?”

The older man sent a meaningful look to the angel, who stayed silent. “He’s resting, Sam. Now is the best time for you to sleep. I’m going to put you on my bed, because you snore so loud, you’ll wake up Cas.”

“I don’t snore,” the man groaned irritably.

“Sure you don’t.” He pulled him into his own room and lay him down on the bed just roughly enough to keep a smirk on his face instead of fondness.

“Bite me,” Sam growled as he turned onto his stomach and shoved his hands under the pillow.

Dean heard the crunch and laughed.

“Dammit, Dean, that better be a weapon of some sort.” He pulled the skin rag out from under the pillow and tossed it at his brother in irritation. “One day you’re going to pull porn out when you’re startled awake instead of your gun, and you better hope it’s a succubus you’re up against.” With that, he let his face fall back onto the pillow. “Let me know when Cas is awake.”

The door had not closed behind him before he heard the soft, familiar snore. He glanced back at his brother, and smiled, and this time, he allowed it to soften and linger.

He stepped out of the sleeping quarters and into the living area to find himself in the middle of a debate about literature. Charlie was shaking her head in disgust. “Then this Metatron douche doesn’t know what’s a true classic!” she was telling the angel.

Castiel was shaking his head too. “I find that difficult to fathom, considering he is the scribe of God.”

Dean dropped himself onto the couch next to Charlie. “So? You arguing that _Lord of the Rings_ should have made it into Cas’s database upload?”

The look she gave him was one of utter disbelief. “Of course it did.”

“It did,” Castiel confirmed.

“What, then? _Dungeons & Dragons_ handbook or something?”

Charlie sighed, and she suddenly looked saddened, as if she felt sorry for Castiel in a way that was inexpressible. “No. Cas doesn’t know _Anne of Green Gables_.”

“It must not have been on Metatron’s summer reading list.”

“Maybe he didn’t want you to know about true love, Cas! If he did, he would have given you Gilbert Blythe.”

Castiel was quiet for a moment, and Dean glanced over at him. The blue eyes looked foggy, but the frown was thoughtful. “Perhaps…Is this a book I could read from the internet?”

Seemingly from nowhere, Charlie whipped out an e-reader and started poking at it. “I’ve got it right here, my poor ignorant angel friend.”

“Cas, shouldn’t you be resting? Charlie’s book report can wait. You were fifty shades of crazy when I left here a few hours ago.”

“There’s a terrible example of romance,” Charlie grumbled to herself.

“I’m fine, Dean. That is…I would not benefit from lying down any longer. My wing needs to stretch a bit, and so does my vessel.”

Dean cringed at the word which should have been pluralized. Nothing natural had just one wing. “Okay, Cas. I’m just glad the sight of me doesn’t turn you violent.”

Castiel frowned again. “What do you mean?”

Green eyes rolled, and Dean sunk further into the couch. He had not realized how tired he was too. “I thought you were going to smite my face earlier.”

The dark head tilted in confusion, and he could see Charlie looking up from her device. “Dean, it isn’t specifically the face that I…Why would I smite you?”

He shrugged uncomfortably. “I don’t know exactly. I chatted with Sam on the phone a few times today, and he says every time you heard my name, you acted like you wanted to break something. And I’m pretty sure he might have saved my life by shoving me out the door earlier. You were pissed, man.”

When Castiel sighed, the new breath he took was a wheeze. “I’m sorry, Dean. I was not well. Am not well. I would never hurt you.”

“We both know that ain’t true, buddy. You just tend to heal my ass after, that’s all.”

Castiel’s eyes fell.

“Whatever. I came for the pizza and white walkers.” He stood to prepare the food and videos.

Charlie handed the device to the angel as Dean walked away. He listened to her voice while he set things up. “Here. When you’re finished with this page-"

“I am.”

“What? No, I mean, when you’ve finished reading this page-"

“I am.”

“Cas, you’ve barely looked at it.”

Dean smirked to himself.

“I’ve finished this page.”

Charlie sighed with irritation. “Fine. Now that you’re finished with this page, you press here to get to the next page. And slow down. You want to absorb the feeling behind the words.”

“I can absorb at a faster rate than a human.”

“No,” Charlie corrected, “you can read at a faster rate. That’s not the same thing. Slow down and think between lines. Reread something you suspect might be important. And when you get confused, stop and ask me. Because you will get confused. I can tell already.”

“Great,” Dean huffed. “He’ll be interrupting every scene.”

Castiel glowered at him. “Perhaps I do know why I may have wanted to smite you.”

***

Two hours later, Castiel had devoured every story in the _Avonlea_ series, and he turned to his companions in excitement. Dean was passed out in a food coma, as Sam would say, and Charlie was tapping away at her laptop busily, so he spoke quietly to avoid startling them. “Charlie?”

She grinned at him. “Hey, Cas. What chapter are you on?”

“I finished it.”

“The whole first book?”

“The series. There are many more books. I’m grateful you had them all on your reader.”

She shook her head, and her chopped red hair bounced around her face happily. “Okay, but did you learn anything about love?”

Castiel took the deepest breath he could manage, and fought down the urge to cough so that it would not wake Dean. “Perhaps. This is far closer than anything I have ever experienced before. I thought at first that the characters did not even like one another.”

“You’re meant to think that.”

He nodded. “But that’s a common literary trope. I also notice that humans tend to try to hide their feelings under antagonism.”

“We do that.”

“So his means of insulting her in the beginning did not confuse me. They had a child.”

Charlie frowned at him. “You skipped from him calling her carrots to the kid?”

“Of course not. But…Which part do you suggest shows reciprocal love the best?”

She was staring now, and Castiel was beginning to feel as though he had inadvertently missed a chapter. “The entire story is how much Anne and Gilbert love one another.”

He could not help his scoff. “Not at all! The story is about Anne. Gilbert is simply a character in her story, and possibly a metaphor for her own self-worth.”

“What?”

Dean flailed on the other end of the couch at Charlie’s shriek. “What the hell?”

Charlie threw her hands up and closed the laptop. “Your angel is hopeless,” she announced. “Put Gilbert Blythe in the body of any woman, and you can take whatever you want from me.”

The hunter snorted. “Don’t say that where Crowley can hear you.”

“Cas, Gilbert Blythe is the greatest love of all time.”

  “But was Anne?” He shook his head again. “I enjoyed the story a great deal. The parallel between the fever Gilbert suffered and the suffering of man at the mercy of that which he loves, his survival as the reward for self-denial and the strength of hope for a better world after this one, and then the way the war took them apart just as the wisdom and wrath of the Divine separated Paradise from humanity’s reach after the Fall…It was quite enjoyable.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

Dean was rolling his eyes again. He did it so often, Castiel sometimes ignored it. “Charlie, give it up. The angel can’t be taught. He once referred to the roadrunner as the divine being chased by a coyote which represents humanity. You can’t expect him to get whatever it is you’re trying to show him about a guy named Gilbert. Who even names their kid Gilbert?”

Charlie shoved cold pizza into her mouth and gave up on them both. “Sam would understand,” she huffed.

Castiel sighed. “I did enjoy the books,” he said again, but his words fell on deaf ears as Charlie opened her laptop back up to continue whatever it was she was doing. “Perhaps you could recommend another?”

She looked at him suspiciously out of the corners of her eyes. “Why, so you can ruin that one too?”

“So there is another one you have in mind.”

She stared at him for a moment, then finally sighed in defeat. “Fine. But if you don’t like it, I don’t want to hear about it. This one…Look, it isn’t _The Hobbit_ , but it is one of my all-time favorites. So you go screwing this one up with your metaphors and crap, and I just won’t speak to you again. Okay? I’m already deleting your interpretation of _Anne_ from my memory.”

“I promise not to share my opinion with you,” he swore solemnly.

“I’m going to regret this, aren’t I?”

Dean shrugged, though she clearly was not talking to him. “You always regret hanging out with us.”

“That’s true. Okay. Cas, that reader, have you figured it out?”

Castiel glanced down at it warily. “I believe so.”

“Then read _The Princess Bride_. But skip the introduction. It’s just going to mess you up. You know what? No. The whole book will mess you up. Read it one day if you’re ever human again. The boys say you do that sometimes.”

The angel flinched. “I would not say that I-"

“Whatever. I’m going to show you the movie. Try to ignore Columbo. I think it’s hilarious, but you’ll get confused.”

Most of the things Charlie said and did confused him, so this was hardly a surprise. She set up her laptop on the coffee table, and tucked earpieces into his ears. It was uncomfortable, but she insisted. When she began the movie, he turned the volume to its lowest setting. He could hear it perfectly well, and any more than that seemed unnecessary. _The Princess Bride_. The title did not seem promising, and he agreed immediately with the adolescent who worried that this was a kissing book, but he knew better than to complain to Charlie.

Instead, he continued watching, and he tried to focus on the surface story instead of wonder about whether or not the pits of despair truly referred to his older brothers’ current residence, or whether the sixth finger on that man’s right hand was meant to symbolize the physical mark of evil, especially since that reminded him of Dean, which distracted him. At one point, he gasped, and had to pause the story in order to give in to a coughing fit.

Charlie was watching him. “What? What happened, Cas? Are you okay? Don’t have a seizure while Sam and Dean are asleep, okay?”

He looked at her with narrowed eyes, then shook his head in horror. “He never sent the ships! He promised he would send them, his four fastest!”

The smile that played on Charlie’s lips now was so delighted that Castiel thought perhaps she had misunderstood the situation. “No, he didn’t.”

“I understood he was a villain, but…”

“Watch the rest, Cas.”

So he did, and when he finally came to the close, where the narrator revealed that this kiss was the most passionate and the most pure, he felt himself sigh heavily. He was exhausted, and it was everything he could do to remove the earpieces and lie down along the couch where he sat to rest his head on a cushion. He was silent, apart from a gentle wheeze in his chest. His broken wing lay against his back, where it was safe outside the realm, and his good wing tucked itself in around his arms, as a blanket, not against cold, but against reality outside of the story he had just experienced.

“Cas? Are you okay?” Charlie asked again, quietly.

His eyes closed slowly, and he let a small smile crinkle his eyes, though it barely touched his lips. “Has Sam seen this?”

“I know he has. I once called him the Dread Pirate Roberts of hunting.”

Castiel nodded. “He is,” he breathed. Sam was the good pirate, and Dean was both the vengeful swordsman and the kind, brutish giant, and the princess was the world they kept saving.

He had not even realized he had spoken this out loud until he saw Charlie grinning at him. “What does that make you, Cas?”

“Me?”

“Sure. If Dean’s playing two roles, and you’re not the princess…”

“Of course I’m not the princess.”

“Why not? Gender roles bother you?”

He frowned at her weakly. “If you are implying…Of course not. I’m not the princess because she is humanity.”

Charlie looked as though that had not explained anything. “Then what are you?”

“I suppose I am the Sicilian?”

“He’s a bad guy, Cas!”

“So am I, far too often.” He let his eyes close again. “No. I am Ryan.”

“Ryan? I don’t remember a Ryan.”

“Perhaps I did not get the name correct. It was said just once. He was the pirate before the man in black. The one who captured him, but kept him alive.”

“He’s not even in the movie, Cas.”

“But he is. He was the one who chose not to kill the man in black. He’s the one who was doing what was expected of him, playing the role which he was meant to play, whether it suited him or not. He was the one moved by the man in black’s story of true love. He was the one inspired by the words, ‘Please, I need to live,’ and understood that what he was truly saying was that someone else needed him to live. Humanity is worth living and fighting for. Dying for someone is the easy part, Charlie. Living for someone is what takes true courage. And it isn’t just humanity, but also individual humans. Sam gave up the trials which would close the gates of Hell, because he loved Dean enough to live for him. If roles had been reversed, Sam would not have been able to talk Dean out of it. Sam listened to what Dean had to say, and, even though he was ready to die, because he loves and trusts Dean, he chose life. Of course, the man in black also claims that death cannot stop true love. All it can do is delay it for a little while. If that does not describe Sam’s relationship with humanity, I’m not sure what would.”

Charlie was finally smiling again, and Castiel supposed he had not ruined this story quite so badly as he had the first one she had shared with him. “Sam?”

“Dean and Sam are both full of sacrifice and strength. Dean is vengeance and honor, duty to protect above all else. Sam loves life and the world, and humanity. He is forgiveness and all that is good. Dean will die for humanity, and Sam certainly has, but Sam will also live for his love.”

Charlie was silent.

Castiel blinked at her. “I don’t…I’m sorry. I was rambling. Forgive me. I’m ill; I don’t know if Dean told you…”

She reached up and put a light hand on his cheek. “You love that man, don’t you?”

“I love Sam,” he said as a clarification, since he suddenly was unsure what Charlie was talking about.

“I don’t think you’re the bad guy, Cas,” she whispered. “And I’m pretty sure Sam doesn’t think so either.”

“I’m not sure what we were…what we were talking about.”

She patted his arm gently. “Don’t worry about it. I’m going to wake up Inigo, and send him to bed. I think you should probably go too. Need me to help you get there?”

“No. Thank you. Charlie, you’re a good friend.”

“Besties,” she reminded him.

He wished she would not make him smile so much. It was beginning to ache a little.


	4. Solitude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel is the angel of solitude.

Sam needed aspirin and a toothbrush. He also wouldn't mind an explanation as to why he was waking up in Dean's room.

He emerged to find Dean sprawled over one couch and Charlie over another. Dean still held a beer bottle and Charlie had a vise grip on her laptop. Sam smiled at the two of them fondly. He eased both items from their paws, eliciting whimpers of protest from each, but neither awoke. He placed their treasures carefully on the coffee table and watched them match purring snores for a moment. It was amazing how Dean had managed to turn the bunker into a living space. He would never not smile as he remembered the man admitting to nesting.

Castiel was not among them, so he opened the door to his own room. There were feathers all over the bed, but no Castiel.

Sam frowned at the sheer amount of lost plumage. It was even worse than before. He had thought the worst of the shedding was over, that Castiel's wings were done with their pitiful pruning. Obviously that was not so.

Did that mean Castiel was getting worse instead of better? Sam's heart pounded at the thought. Was Castiel wrong in his confidence that he would recover?

A thought made his blood stab through him like an icy current. "Or did you lie to me?" he breathed into the empty room.

The shower was on.

He stepped quietly toward the door and hoped he would not find it locked, as he had three days before. The door was not even latched; he pushed it open, and there on the floor of the shower, without even a curtain to keep out the cool air, was his angel.

Sam sucked in his breath.

Castiel was naked and shaking like a leaf as water poured down on his pale skin relentlessly. Curled around him was one pitiful black wing, and draped onto the wet floor beside him was its mate, wet and hanging at such an odd angle that even a non-winged creature like Sam felt sick while looking at it, as if Castiel's knee were bent the wrong way.

"Cas?"

The tremors were violent, and Castiel did not look up at him. But he vocalized something deep in his throat.

"Cas? Cas, that's Enochian, man. I don't know what you're saying." He knelt carefully beside the shower. "Come on, man. Let me get you to the bed, okay?"

"No," the angel choked. Then the rest of it was sputterings of his native tongue.

"Okay. I've heard enough. Cas, I'm going to pray to Hannah."

The sound from Castiel's lips reminded him of a screaming hawk. It was full of pain and frustration, and it was obviously not coming from his vessel.

"Shit," Sam cried. "Cas, you can't use your voice, okay? Charlie is right outside the door, and she wasn't made to be an archangel vessel. Okay? If it made Dean's ears bleed, you know what it'll do to her. Calm down. Talk to me. But so I can understand you."

Sam reached up and turned the water off. He grabbed a towel to wrap around his angel but the wings were now corporeal, and he struggled to keep it on him. After much tousling and a bit of wrestling, Sam finally got Castiel out of the bathroom and laid out naked on the bed.

Castiel was still muttering in Enochian, but at least he was using the deep voice of a human.

"All right. Okay. Cas, if you can't talk to me, I'm praying for Hannah. You understand me?"

The half-breathed syllables choked in his throat. So he was understanding. That was something.

"Cas? Castiel, I can't help you if I don't know-"

"Can't help me!" he forced out in frustration. "Can't help me!" he repeated in Latin, as if unsure what human language he should be using.

Sam could grasp the Latin. But it scared him. "Cas, you're confused and I don't know if...I don't know if it is safe to not make a call to Heaven. They'll know how to help you, won't they?"

Now he was mixing English with Latin. "They did this to me. Punishment for what I've done. Only an angel could do this to an angel."

He sat next to him and took his hand. "An angel did do it, Cas. But not on Hannah's orders. You still have friends-"

"Angel of solitude."

Something about this, spoken in clear English, made Sam flinch. "What does that mean?"

"You humans get so many things wrong. You get everything wrong!"

Sam sighed. "We do the best we can, Cas, without the use of holy grace."

"You think you know what I am. You tell stories."

This seemed to be a specific rant. "You mean angel lore? On you in particular?"

"Angel of Thursday, fine. Yes. Angel who observes the funerals of kings, true, though I observed the funerals of common humans as well."

Castiel continued trembling, and Sam tried to place the blanket over him.

"Some called me archangel, but that can be forgiven. You have no understanding of the echelons of Heaven. I am a seraph." A look of anguish crossed his face. "I was a seraph. The only thing I am now is broken."

Sam's heart ached at the pain in Castiel's eyes.

"But the angel of solitude?"

The hunter frowned. "Cas, I'm sorry. I don't know what you're talking about."

The man drew his breath in sharply as he witnessed the first of Castiel's tears falling. He was gazing blindly at the ceiling, in complete exhaustion. "You get so much wrong," he rasped. "Why did that have to be the one thing you got right?"

Sam's heart lurched in his chest. He lay beside his angel and wrapped his arms around him, stilling the tremors as well as he could. "You're not alone, Cas. You're not."

Castiel shook his head, and tears streamed ceaselessly down his cheeks, back into his hairline, down his feverish throat. "Angels weren't meant for solitude." The desperation in his voice was gut wrenching. "Humans either, but angels...we have to be grouped. Paired at least. We are never whole without our grace reverberating off that of a sister or brother. The quiet of being cut off from the hum of what you call angel radio is maddening. We lose our minds when we cannot tap into the orders from Heaven. Only the archangels could survive this, and I long suspected the four made together were always meant to be together. That it was their separation that lead them to lose themselves each in a different way. We...we aren't meant to be alone."

Now that Castiel was coherent, Sam relaxed a bit to truly concentrate on his words. "I'm...I can't ever be enough, can I?"

For the first time, Castiel turned his head to face his lover. He reached out with shaking fingers and touched Sam's lips reverently. "Sam Winchester. The boy who saved the world. The boy who put two archangels into the ground, and who still stops to save a dog that's run into the road to be hit by the car." Castiel curled into his hunter's chest then, his one good wing blanketing them together. "You are far more than enough, beloved."

Sam closed his eyes, relief and grief settling in his stomach in equal measures. "But?" he guessed.

"You're mortal, Sam. Perhaps you and your brother are the least mortal humans in the world, but you are, in fact, mortal. Sam, I realized a few hours ago...Sam, I don't want to live through this."

The man's chest seized badly, and he grabbed Castiel's wrist. "What the hell does that mean?"

"I want to let this kill me. And I hope you'll respect that, even if you can't understand it. Sam, I can't live without you. It will happen one day, in the blink of an angel's life, and then I will be more alone than any angel can be. What it did to Lucifer, to Gabriel...to Metatron...I can't lose you. I've been desperate before, Sam, and we've seen it ends badly. Better that I stop fighting this thing now than have to fight against myself later on."

"No."

"Sam-"

"I said no."

The angel's shaking lessened in the silence, and he did not seem to have the energy to continue the situation. Several minutes passed in this quiet, until finally, Castiel whispered, "Thank you for loving me."

Sam closed his eyes, and held him closer. "Thank you for letting me."

There were no more words until morning.


	5. Bound

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam does what he thinks he needs to do. He finds Castiel help.

When Castiel opened his eyes, he saw only blackness rimmed in red. He closed them again and sighed heavily.

"Cas?"

He took a shallow breath before responding. "Yes, Sam."

"What's wrong?"

He wanted to laugh, but hadn't the energy. "Everything."

He could feel Sam shift on the bed beside him. "Cas? Look at me. What's going on? Are you worse?"

"Worse is relative, beloved," he whispered. "And I can look at you, but I cannot see you, so there isn't much point, is there?"

A hand was on his face now. "What do you mean? Cas?"

"I can hear you. Please do not shout. I'm blind, not deaf."

"Blind! Cas! What are you...Castiel, talk to me!"

He sighed again wearily, and sunk deeper into his pillow. "I don't know what you need me to say. I'm unable to see. It's quite disturbing and I already miss you. There isn't anything else."

"God, Cas, I'm so...Jesus. Did you know this was going to happen?"

"If I'd known, I would have stared at you all night while you slept," he whispered. "You are so beautiful, Sam. Truly the most beautiful thing I have ever seen, and I'm grateful for every glimpse I've ever gotten."

Sam was frantic. There was a great deal of movement, and Castiel was too disoriented to keep up. "But it's going to get better. Right?"

He licked his lips, and thought of Sam's.

"Castiel? Are you going to get better at all? Were you lying when you said you would be fine after a few weeks?"

Sam's eyes, he decided. That was what he would miss the most. The way he ducked his head when he was laughing and being shy at the same time, perhaps. And the way his eyes took on the colors around them, the way Sam himself drew upon the emotions of those around him. That shift in color was something which could not be experienced any other way. The skin and lips, he could kiss, and the laugh he could hear. The eyes, though. The colors. He must remember those.

He must remember those.

If he lived only another few days, he did not want to live without those colors. If he lived another million days, he did not want to live without them.

"Human brains are so fragile," he hissed bitterly. "Memories are so fleeting. Wretched, unreliable things! Memories are insufficient! I used to simply know things! Inside a vessel, broken in this irreparable way, I am forced to remember!"

Suddenly, he was shocked to realize Sam had been weeping beside him for several minutes. His foggy mind changed the target of its attention in a deliberate way which required too much effort.

"Sam? I don't mean to upset you."

"Don't mean to...Cas, did you lie to me? Are you...Is this going to kill you?"

Honesty was likely his best option at this point. If he had just days left, he did not want them spent making Sam angry with him. "I don't know, Sam. Probably."

A strangled sound came from his lover. "All from a broken wing?" hissed the human. "I don't understand!"

Castiel sighed. "Neither do I, Sam. Angels aren't meant to get sick. They aren't meant to-If this had happened a century ago, on the battlefield, I would have been terminated out of mercy."

He could feel Sam's wince. "Castiel, why didn't you tell me? You can't...you can't pretend this doesn't affect me. Dean too. We're your friends, Cas!" His voice broke, and his breath caught over the next words. "I'm your mate, Castiel. You said angels are meant to be grouped or paired. What do you think we are? You and me, we're paired! Grouped with Dean! How could you think this doesn't affect me?"

Castiel wanted to reach for him, but found his arms too heavy. "I'm sorry. Sam, I'm not thinking clearly. Of course you're my mate. Of course we're grouped with Dean. I've been far more fortunate in that way than I ever thought I could be. I've always been alone, Sam, even among my garrison. There were so many lonely missions, time spent away from my loved ones, that I grew to be distant. Distinct among identical brethren. I reported only to Anael, sometimes for years, decades at a time. Then when at last, she fell, I was made garrison captain, and even as I was reunited with my grouping, I was yet set apart from them. I did not take a vessel, as some did. I never learned to commune with humans, except in answer to prayer. Sam, the truth is that I'm frightened, and I don't know how to accept help. Every time I've tried, it has ended with the loss of friends. Even you and Dean."

"Cas, God, please! Let me call for Hannah! There has to be something she can do! Cas, you've lost your wings, your sight, and there are times I think you've lost your mind too. This isn't a fever, Cas. And if you think I'm going to let it kill you, you're very, very wrong."

Castiel let his eyes close and he smiled to himself. "Winchesters. So pigheaded. All right, Sam. If you need to hear it from another angel that there's nothing to be done-"

"Hannah, I'm Sam Winchester, Castiel's friend. Please. He needs help. I...I know you're hesitant to have him return to Heaven, but I thought...thought maybe you could..."

"She will need time, Sam. With the portals to Heaven so limited, it isn't as simple as it once was. And...I doubt she is inclined to come for my sake, not after things which have happened with Metatron and-"

"I'm here, Castiel."

Sam let out a jagged sigh of relief. "Hannah, please. He's got a broken wing, and I think he's dying."

Castiel felt a soft hand touch his, and he flinched. "Hannah," he choked. "Hannah, I'm so sorry." And now he was sobbing, as only a human should know how to do. "I'm so sorry."

Another soft hand closed over his, and he wondered what vessel she had taken to be here. It was a female voice. It did not matter. It was Hannah. Lovely, strong Hannah, better than any angel Castiel could remember.

"Sam, may I speak to Castiel, and examine him a bit, in private?"

Sam was hesitant. "Hannah, what he did, it was...Please don't be angry with him."

He could hear her smile. "Sam, I'm not going to hurt him. But please. It is a matter of dignity for our mutual friend."

There was a shuffle of feet, and then Sam's claiming kiss was on his forehead. "I won't be far if you need me."

"Thank you."

Hannah spoke again once the door had closed. "Castiel, you are incorrigible."

In spite of his pain and fear, he smiled. "And you are the best among us, dear Hannah. I know I am your last great challenge. You are the only angel who could ever forgive me so many times."

"Heaven is quiet, Castiel. We are doing good work again. Scribes are recording, soldiers are training, and most of us are out in the world only for the sake of administering good. Healing humans whose hearts are pure, and taking the suffering of the very weak. Prayers guide us now, those which are selfless and heartfelt. Angels come to me and our old friends for advice and reassurance, but the hierarchies of old are gone for good."

Castiel's broken heart soared with the news. "I'm so glad, Hannah. Even...even Metatron, for whatever that's worth, has said your Heaven is the best it has ever been."

"It isn't my Heaven, Castiel, nor anyone's unless our Father one day returns. That's the point."

His sobs had ceased, but tears still trickled from his sightless eyes. "I wish I could be there," he whispered. No matter what comfort he found here, in spite of the love and family he had built here among humanity, this was not the home Castiel had known for eons, the one he had left because it was the right thing to do, but would always ache for.

"Castiel..."

He forced a smile, and squeezed her hand. "No, I know. I know, you don't have to say anything. But...I'm dying, and there isn't much point in dishonesty for the sake of appearances. I miss home, Hannah. And I know we've each individually and collectively decided not to mention it...Hannah, I miss knowing in my heart that Father is there. That He cares. I know He cared at one point, enough to bring me back again and again. But if He truly cared, wouldn't He bring back a better angel, and give him a better understanding of what it is He wants? I've come to realize that Father bringing me back...it isn't because He believes I'm doing any good. It isn't because He thinks I'm going to fix anything."

"Castiel. Don't try to understand our Father. It's what makes us each mad. Tell me that isn't what lead to the madness of Gabriel and Zachariah and Metatron, the obsession of Michael and Raphael and Naomi. The callous brutality of other would-be leaders who warred on one another here among the humans, those you dispatched yourself. It's all because our nature has been upturned. Our faith is part of our physiology, Castiel. Losing it, constantly seeking it, seeking Him in all we do and see, our desperation for answers...it's what eats away at our sanity. Look at Lucifer, or the Grigori. Separation from the Host and our faith makes us incomplete. Some of us are trying to cope. But others have simply taken sanctuary in madness. As you have, many times."

Closing his eyes seemed silly, but he did so anyway. "As I said, dear Hannah, I'm dying. So why not?"

She sighed heavily now. "Because if there is anything I feel our Father has made clear over the past several years, it is His preference that good Castiel remain alive. So let's see if we can, just once, do as He would have us do."

Castiel's frown deepened. "You...you think you can heal me?"

"I think I can try. Stop hiding your injuries from me, Castiel. It is a waste of your energy and my time."

He flinched. There was no point in asking how Hannah knew he was attempting the illusion. She knew because she knew him. Slowly, ashamedly, he let the illusion evaporate until the extent of his injuries was unmasked.

"Oh, Castiel," she sighed.

He shut his eyes even tighter against the humiliation. "Can you forgive a vain deception?"

"No I can't," Hannah snapped. "Your vanity nearly got you killed. If Sam had not cared enough for you to call to me, you would be dead within the day."

The chastisement made him cringe. "There's nothing that can be done, is there?"

"You won't fly again, Castiel."

The bedside manner of a human doctor, who perhaps would have eased him into a devastating diagnosis, was painfully absent here. "Yes," Castiel choked hoarsely. "I know."

"But you needn't die. My grace can assist by helping yours and this vessel adjust to the damage your wings have taken. And I can possibly..." She was thoughtful now. "We may bind your wings with a strand of grace so they will be more comfortable for you, and will prevent further damage. It may be the best we can do, brother."

Bind his wings. Castiel took an involuntary breath as the last of his pride shattered. This was worse than being human. Being human had a dignity of its own, in a way. Even as his stolen grace had failed him, he could pretend it was a just death which awaited him, if only he could do some good beforehand. But this. Binding an angel's wings was a mark of disgrace. Metatron had been bound. Gadreel had spent most of his life bound. It was the symbol of a failed angel.

And perhaps that was just what he was.

Tears leaked out, but he nodded. "Then let's do it."


	6. A Man and His Angel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam tells Castiel one last love story.

It took nearly two days before Castiel truly seemed more like himself. He regained his sight and some of his strength right away, but remained exhausted and clearly in pain. 

Hannah had seemed a little worse for the effort too, but when Sam questioned it, she had smiled softly. "It is not of import," she assured him. "My grace will restore itself in time. And Castiel's...He will never fly again, but he will live."

"Thank you, Hannah. Really. He wouldn't let me call for you before. Worried that the rogue that did this to him would attack you if you left Heaven for him. And I think...I think he was too proud to accept help."

She nodded. "Castiel is a proud creature, and it will be his undoing over and over again. Fortunately, he has a friend willing to put his health before his pride."

Sam smiled awkwardly. "Anyway, thank you."

"Sam, he is likely to feel uncomfortable for a very long time, and what we had to do to his wings...it will upset him the rest of his life. You should know. He probably would have preferred death...if he had not had you to live for."

Days went by, and Castiel spoke as little as he could get away with. His expression was one of resignation and contained suffering. It was hard for Sam to watch, but at least his vessel no longer seemed to be rejecting his grace like an ill-matched organ. 

Dean had asked if he was needed. Sam had sighed. "I don't think there's anything you can do. Hannah said he just needs time now."

"Okay. Charlie and me, we're going to check out a ghost story about two hours from here, since she's in town. Thought you two might like to have the place to yourselves."

"Thank you."

His brother nodded. He began to walk away, then turned back. "Oh. Charlie said to tell you Cas thinks you're the pirate, but Cas isn't the princess." He rolled his eyes a little and shrugged. "I guess that'll make sense to him?"

Sam laughed tiredly. "Maybe. He was pretty out of it the past few days. It's probably just gibberish."

"Good to know he ain't a princess, though, right?" he teased. 

"Definitely. Even better that he doesn't think I'm one."

So the bunker was quiet, and Sam lay with his angel for hours on end, though neither slept more than a shallow doze. Finally, Sam smiled at him. 

"Hey. Charlie says I'm a pirate and you're not a princess. What's that mean?"

For the first time in over a day, Castiel smiled back. "The Dread Pirate Roberts. Except that isn't his true name."

Sam smirked. "You think I'm Westley. Then who are you?"

Castiel sighed heavily and looked into his eyes. "Sam, I have tried in vain to find a love story to compare to what we are. The closest I can come is a love story which parallels your relationship to humanity. I'm afraid there doesn't seem to be one which would include me."

The hunter put his arm on the pillow and pulled Castiel to rest on his chest, letting the arm grip his angel as tightly as it wanted to. "There's a story I heard once."

The angel sighed. "If this is about the movie with the boat, Sam, I told you there was clearly room on that raft for them both."

"That was Dean who brought that up. And I think he was referring to his love for Winslet's rack. No, not Titanic."

"Then what?"

"Close your eyes and I'll tell it to you. It is my favorite story of all time."

"Charlie accused me of ruining her favorites, Sam."

"Hush."

There came another sigh, but Castiel was quiet. 

Sam smiled to himself, and let his fingers caress Castiel's bare arm while he spoke. "Once upon a time, there was a boy called Sam, just like me. This boy never went to a beach. He never swam in an ocean, or sailed. He was close enough to smell the salt a thousand times, but he never quite had the chance to see the ocean. This boy grew up, and somewhere along the line, he kind of forgot there even was an ocean, a real one outside of stories. All Sam knew was open road. He was often lost, and never found a home anywhere he went. There was nothing he could count on, except that he would never feel like he belonged anywhere. Even the stars changed, and some nights they weren't in the sky at all."

"The stars are always-"

"Shut up, Cas."

Castiel chuckled wearily. 

"This man, Sam, he loved a lot of people in his time, and lost all of them. Everyone he ever loved, he lost. And maybe he even began to believe it was because of him that every good thing in his life slipped away or burned out. And maybe he even started to think he should try to never love anyone ever again."

Castiel slid his hand across Sam's stomach and up to rest his fingers on his throat at his pulse point. 

Sam closed his eyes. "So this boy who never saw the ocean, he grew up to be extremely lonely. Every time it got to be too much, he fell again. Sam fell in love over and over, sometimes with a woman, sometimes with an idea, sometimes with a promise. Every time, he was burned, and every time, he vowed never to love again. And every time, he was too weak, and before he knew it, he was falling yet again. There seemed to be no end to his stupidity. Over and over, he fell, and it hurt more every time when he got burned."

"This story...will it have a happy ending, Sam?"

"Just listen. There was one person who floated in and out of his life for several years. This one person, Cas, he was incredibly special. Unbelievably special. And when Sam met Cas, he knew immediately what it was like to see the ocean."

Castiel gave a shuddered breath. 

The human held him tighter. "This creature was full of glory and purpose, and he used another man's eyes, but Sam once saw them when Cas wasn't using them, and they didn't contain the ocean anymore. They were just as blue, but not nearly so ancient, not nearly so impossible as when that creature was looking through them. Sam fell for this creature again and again. This impossible ocean in a man's body, he was every other love this man had. Sam loved and lost this creature so many times that it felt like he finally knew what a tide was. And every time, he swore to himself he was finished being stupid."

"Sam," Castiel sighed. 

"Men can love the ocean, Cas. The ocean could never love a man. It's too ancient, too big, too full of mystery and purpose. It's just not meant to be held, and it isn't meant to hold."

"Sam, I want this to have a happy ending."

Sam found tears slipping from the corners of his eyes, and he laughed, sniffing. "So do I, Cas. This ocean gave Sam everything, and drown him all at the same time. Then one day, the man tried to give himself for yet another idea he had fallen in love with. He thought this creature would understand. After all, hadn't Cas given everything of himself, countless times? But the creature, he made Sam stop. Said nothing was worth losing him. That no idea was worth what it would take from them. And this impossible ocean was still too beautiful and too powerful and too much like an unstoppable tide, but Sam wanted so badly to believe in something again, and he threw himself into love one last time. Because the man is weak like that. And the most impossible thing about this ocean is that it somehow learned to do what oceans don't do, and he loved the man in return. Instead of drowning him, the ocean soothed all the pain and fear that had been in the man since he was a boy. And Sam has still never been on a beach, but it doesn't matter anymore, because he can touch the impossible anytime he wants, and it gives him the strength he needs. And for Sam, there will never be anything worth losing Cas."

The angel gave a jagged breath. "Even if he's broken?" he whispered. "Shamed forever before his own kind?"

"You think the man isn't broken? That he doesn't have to hide among his kind too?"

He felt Castiel's hard muscles give up their tension all of the sudden. "Yes," he said quietly. "I suppose this Sam might understand this Cas after all. It is a good story, Sam."

"It's my favorite," the man said again, and kissed the top of his angel's head. "I don't see an end in sight, but when it comes, I think it will be a happy one. Don't you?"

"Yes, Sam," his angel sighed. "Yes, I think it will end quite happily ever after."


End file.
